The evening light was sepia
when I looked upwards
like an old photograph
and slightly misty
like an old photograph
of undeveloped technique.
But that was looking upwards.
Down below the sepia darkened
turning brown as primeval mud
in an frightful ancient swamp.
Not a place to sit and contemplate the sepia
of the fading light
with the foreground blackening,
becoming yet more dense
in the fading light
becoming a place to hurry through
not a place to sit and contemplate
the changes
of the fading light.